Well You Ain't English
by purrpickle
Summary: Or, in which Howard learns Angie's off the table, won't take any of his guff, and damn good at cards. Cartinelli hints. One-shot.


**A/N: **I don't own Agent Carter nor the characters within. So I realized pretty quickly after the last episode (The Blitzkrieg Button) that I'm all up for a Howard/Angie brotp.

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A spitting image of Howard Stark, male and mustached and smirking, leaning against the door frame, wasn't what Angie expected when the door to 3E swung open. "Well you sure ain't English," she said in greeting.

"I'm Peggy's cousin." The man smiled at her, eyebrows practically waggling.

"Right," Angie swept her gaze up the man's body, crossing her arms as she continued, "And I'm from Oz. Peggy in?"

Shifting, moving his weight to block Angie's attempts to see over and around him, the man chuckled. "Ah, no. She's at work. Won't be back for hours."

Angie nodded. "Right," she repeated, frowning, completely unconvinced, "You here because...?"

The man squinted at her, as if surprised she was bothering to follow up his story. Grabbing the door frame, using it to hold his weight as he leaned forward, he glanced up and down the hallway, doing his best to conceal it as flirting with her. When he was satisfied that he wasn't in danger from a preachy Mrs. Fry dropping in on him, he graced Angie with a dazzling, assured smile. "She missed me. Wanted me to drop in for a while."

Angie didn't believe that for a second.

"But enough about good ol' Pegs." The man stepped out into the hall, making Angie step back; he kept a hand back to make sure the door didn't close on him, "Want to show me around?"

Angie almost cold cocked him. Instead, she closed her eyes, rolling them behind her eyelids, then shook her head for good measure. "That might work on the other girls," she offered flatly, "But it won't work on me." Opening her eyes, she pinned the man with her gaze, sticking her finger into his chest. "Look. I know what you're up to, and it's not gonna happen. You may not be Peggy's cousin, and you sure as hell look enough like Howard Stark it's mighty suspicious, but I don't care." She dropped her hand. "I'm not gonna turn you in because it'd make trouble for Peggy."

The man cocked his head. "Wait," he smiled, looking less surprised than before, when her finger had been jabbing into him, "You're Angie, aren't you?"

Angie flushed. She crossed her arms again. "So what if I am?"

"Then," the man stepped back, pushing open the door, "I may have lied before. Peggy'll be back soon. Join me for spirits and cards in the meantime?"

Angie believed that. She also believed that the man did look bored enough with every other eligible woman on the floor out at the moment. "Only if you agree to keep your hands to yourself," she replied, pointing at him as she walked past him, taking in the barely clutter-changed room of her friend, thinking that honestly, if she hadn't have known that the man was there in the first place, she may not have noticed any overt evidence that Peggy wasn't alone. Taking a seat at one of the chairs pressed up close to the table where the latest newspaper sat, unfurled to the business pages, she raised her eyebrows as soon as the man closed and locked the door after her, pulling out his own seat before picking up at least two frayed decks of cards. "And if you tell me your name," she added, pressing further.

Halting his shuffling, the man squinted at her again. Taking the time to set aside the cards to pull out a half-full bottle of whiskey from under the table, reaching out to grab two clean glasses from the sink next to him, he poured two fingers in each. "You a rock girl?"

Angie rolled her eyes again. Ice just watered down the alcohol. "Just give me the drink."

The man tipped his own drink in a toast to her, taking a quick, deep swill before Angie got her fingers on the one he pushed at her. "Girl after my own heart," he cleared his throat after swallowing, smirking at her. His eyes flashed. "And you can call me Howard."

Angie slammed her glass down, swallowing over half of the alcohol he'd poured for her. "I _knew _it!" she pointed at him again, her finger wagging, lips quirking up.

Howard raised his eyebrows, picking up the whiskey bottle in a silent question of if she wanted more. When Angie pushed her hand over her drink to signify that no, at the moment she was okay, he nodded, refilling his own glass. "Rumino?"

Grinning, Angie waved her hand for him to go ahead and deal. "Surprised you know it," she commented, reaching for the pen at the side of the table to start keeping score in the margins of the newspaper. It was, after all, the closest source of paper.

Howard wiggled his eyebrows then, mustache curving up along with his lips as he dealt them the requisite seven cards each. "I think you'll find that I know many things."

Angie laughed. "Shut up and play," she directed, sweeping up her cards. Then, looking over them as Howard dropped the rest between them, turning over the top of the discard pile, she let a wide, almost sleazy grin take over her face. Folding her hand down so no one could look at it, she broached, "We gonna bet anything?"

Pausing in the middle of checking his own hand, Howard looked up, a sure, cocky smile of his own spreading across his face. "What would you suggest?"

Letting him refill her glass when he offered again, Angie leaned forward, her elbows solidly on the table, fingers brushing her hair away from her eyes and forehead. "How 'bout secrets?" she asked, almost boasting, not expecting the man in front of her to agree.

Except Howard, fueled by ego and surety and spirits (and turned down when he suggested removing threads instead), _did_ agree.

Which meant, less than an hour later when Peggy slipped in, calling for Howard and jerking in surprise when she realized Angie was there as well, proudly slamming down a winning hand that made the named billionaire groan and throw his losing cards down at the table, grumbling and reaching up to loosen the collar of his shirt, Angie wasn't completely surprised to see that Peggy was worse for wear, hair mussed and face tired.

So, figuring, rationalizing that was the reality of the life of a double agent, Angie did the only thing she could think of doing: "Come on, English," she smiled, flashing her teeth, sitting back in her seat and tempering her expression to be accepting, taking a sip of her drink as she reminded Howard to pour the Englishwoman a drink of her own, eyes sweeping up and down the other woman's body to see if she was okay, "Join the fun."

"The fun?" Peggy asked, incredibly skeptical, slowly taking the last seat at the table. She glanced at Howard before turning, staring at Angie as if trying to discern, uncomfortably, what it was between the two she'd found in her room. "What are you doing here?"

Angie, however, ignored her and dealt another hand between the three of them. "Rumino," she offered, "You know it?"

Peggy groaned, picking up her hand while watching Howard pour her a nice couple fingers of whiskey into a new glass for her, smirking up at her. She did indeed know Rumino.

What she _didn't _know, however, Peggy added mentally, eyeing Angie and glaring at Howard in turn, was what she should do with this new connection between her old friend and... Well... Her heart fluttered, uncomfortable in her chest, unsure and hesitant… Other... Newer friend...?


End file.
